


Kou-gyaru

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Kill Bill (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-20
Updated: 2003-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Rook</p><p>Gogo always wears her uniform. It makes perfect bait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kou-gyaru

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Suffire

 

 

\--%-- 

The man's blood, Gogo thought, looked very pretty on the glass bar top. It matched the red flowers embedded inside. Yes. A perfect match. Unfortuantely it was ruining her shoes. She couldn't be having with that. 

"I would like a napkin," she informed the barman. He gurgled weakly. Gogo sighed. Really, didn't a single bar in Tokyo hire competent help anymore? "A napkin," she repeated. The barman's eyes rolled up into his head as he fainted, falling heavily against the bar. 

Gogo pushed him down gently to the floor, being careful not to push so hard he rocked back into the row of bottles. It wouldn't do, after all, to break them. This place had such a lovely selection. 

There was a faint chuckle behind her, and then a dainty hand passed her a napkin. "Beautiful," said the owner of the hand. "How would you like to work for me?" 

\--%-- 

They stared at each other across their cups, just the three of them. Gogo was, as she almost always was, dressed in her uniform. O-ren was in her black kimono, and Sofie, as usual, in her long black robe. 

Gogo and her employer had, she realized, a lot in common. Madness, for one. The ability to drink all night long and still talk coherently. A love for antique weaponry. O-ren had a favorite sword, and she had let Gogo examine it, run her hands down its long supple blade. The most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, with a few exceptions. 

Sofie did not like antique weapons and could not hold her sake. She was also, more or less, sane. Still, that was alright - it meant they balanced out, to a certain degree. 

"Thank you for helping her," Sofie said, for the fifth time that evening. "That was a very nice job." Gogo wondered whether Sofie realized how many times she'd said that, if she was just gushing. Boss Tanaka's angry relatives had certianly been annoying, but she hadn't done anything special. Just bashed three of their heads in with a chair, while O-ren had taken on the one with the sword and Sofie had ducked behind the table to pick off the late-comer with her handgun. Maybe Sofie was just that grateful. 

Gogo gave the same smile and half-bow as she had the past four times, and O-ren chcukled and hid her smile behind her fan again, and Sofie slumped forward, very nearly hitting her sake cup as she did so. 

O-ren and Gog matched glances, then stood up. O-ren gave a tiny little sigh and walked over to the door, traded a few quiet words with the guard there, then took Gogo's hand. "Come on, Gogo-chan," she murmured. "I think it's time I give you your reward for that brilliant performance." 

\--%-- 

O-ren, like Gogo, despised pedophiles. 

She was too old now to dress in a school uniform, find men who liked her little white socks, and stick a sword into their gut. So she sat in the back of a bar in her black kimono and sipped sake or wine or beer while Gogo did it for her. It was tremendous fun for both of them, and the barkeepers, at least the clever ones, helped them hide the bodies afterwards. Gogo found it invigorating, and a good way to keep her hand in. O-ren considered it to be cleaning up the city. Her hatred was more personal. 

Their victim tonight was a fat-looking man in a wine-stained sweatshirt, who had leered at them as soon as they walked in together. A squeeze of the hand was all it took, and they took up their appointed positions. 

The bar counter here was metal, and the man's lifeless head made a beautiful ringing noise when it hit. 

\--%-- 

The very first night O-ren had given her a secretive smile. "I have a confession to make," she had whispered. "I also find school uniforms arousing." 

Gogo had considered this for a while. "It's different, though," she'd murmured, and slipped one hand inside O-ren's kimono. "You I don't mind." 

\--%-- 

O-ren thought Sofie was mysterious, Sofie was intruiging, Sofie was wonderful. And Sofie's kisses tasted like tea, and she was always delightfully subtle. However, anyone could get tired of subtlety. 

Sofie understood. How could she not? She was very understanding. 

So when O-ren waved her hand in dismissal, Sofie said nothing, but bowed and walked out, and to all appearances seemed entirely unperturbed by the dismissial. 

\--%-- 

It's past midnight already, and Sofie, about an hour ago, gave up and went to bed; she's the sensible one, doesn't do all-nighters. O-ren and Gogo, not being sensible, are still sitting in O-ren's bedroom talking and getting drunk. Which, considering their tolerance levels, is going to take a while. 

Gogo's poison tonight is sake, ice-cold and tipped down her throat from a shot glass rather than the traditional flat dishes; every so often she almost smiles, a fierce expression that touches her eyes but not her mouth. 

Gogo slams back a shot of sake--it might be her fifth or sixth, she's not really sure--and glances over at O-ren. 

"We're not going out," she says, and it's only half a question. 

"Mmm. Not tonight, I think." O-ren runs her tounge over her lips, briefly, like a snake. 

There is a pause, and Gogo looks down at the shot glass in her hand for a moment, as if considering the bottom of it. 

Then she puts it aside and climbs onto the table. 

"Right here," she says. "Now." 

\--%-- 

Where Sofie would be careful, rhythmic, like an artisan crafting something delicate, Gogo is carelessly rough and brimming over with abandon. She has no rhythm other than not-slow, and she growls like a wild animal, as if wishing she could be the one whose hips were grinding down into small calloused fingers. 

"Gogo," O-ren gasps, and slides her hands down to work at the forgotten skirt button. "Gogooo - " The name turns into a howl, and her hips press against Gogo's, shuddering. 

The more she shudders, it seems, the more relentlessly Gogo rubs and presses and squirms, rolling soft wet flesh under her fingers as if it were bread dough to be punched down. O-ren moans and slips her fingers down between Gogo's legs, narrowing her eyes in concentration, her breathing gone ragged and heavy. In return, Gogo's growling lifts a little in pitch, and she tosses her head back, the sound gaining volume as it pours from her. O-ren's breath takes on an irregular rhythym, fast and hard and desperate, and her hips rock relentlessly against her partner's. 

Gogo squirms a little, hooks a leg around O-ren's waist. Her moans are long and loud, almost short of being sharp cries. O-ren gives one long, rippling moan. It might have a name in it, but it's difficult to determine if it does. Her eyes close and her throat trembles with ecstasy. 

Gogo's hips buck and her fingers press harder still, and she's practically howling, completely un-selfconscious. O-ren gasps, visibly gathers her self-control, and twists her fingers just a little, just to right way. 

Gogo shudders once, and then throws her head back and just screams. 

\--%-- 

"You're like a wild beast," O-ren murmurs affectionately. 

"So?" Gogo asks, but the question isn't a sharp one. 

O-ren gives another faint chuckle. "Sometimes I like to think I've tamed you ... but it's not true, is it?" 

Gogo smiles, fleet and faint, only with her eyes. "I didn't bite you this time." 

"Mmm. But you do sink your claws in whomever I say." 

"That's because you understand." 

" ... thank you." 

Gogo stretches lazily, and is quiet. 

\--%-- 

When Gogo saw O-ren's body lying in the snow, her first thought was, /How beautiful/. Her second was /I will find the woman who did this and kill her/. The beauty was for the blood over the snow, the black hair spread up over her head in waves, the expression of peace. The deathwish was that this woman /had killed O-ren/, and the thought pounded in Gogo's mind, a dull throbbing ache that she had not expected ever to feel. She was supposed to die first. That was the way things went. 

After a while she realized that she was cold, that her head hurt, and that she was probaly still bleeding. She dropped to her knees, very slowly, wondering idly why she wasn't dead. Surely that blow should have killed her? Perhaps she was just luck. That wasn't important now. What was important was O-ren, and O-ren was dead, and she was going to find the woman in yellow and kill her. She was a failure. She hadn't come through when it mattered. But she'd make up for it, somehow. 

That was what duty and honor and the burning anger in her soul told her. That was what she would do. 

She shivered and took a deep breath, trying very hard not to faint again, not to let herself be weak again, not to let herself be anything but what she needed to be. Her blood was dripping down her face, getting ugly red stains all over her neat uniform blazer, and the cold of the snow bit into her legs. 

Gogo stood up, barely keeping herself upright, and took a deep breath. Her duty told her to take revenge above all else. 

Her duty was all she had left. 

She firmly turned back into the restaurant. Sofie was in there, somewhere. 

 


End file.
